


When I am dead, my dearest [A Draco Malfoy Love Story]

by mudbloodmadness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, Mudblood, Multi, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudbloodmadness/pseuds/mudbloodmadness
Summary: After Lucius Malfoy abandoned the Death Eaters after Voldermort's defeat in the First Wizarding War; he escaped imprisonment by claiming to be under the Imperius Curse. His blatant desertion made the Death Eaters hungry for revenge. By killing Draco's Mudblood friend, they take their revenge. They reasoned that forcing Lucius to witness his only son weep ceaselessly over his friend's lifeless body, with the knowledge that her blood was on his hands, would punish him for his cowardice in the worst way imaginable.Professor Dumbledore believes that a stint at Hogwarts will help him heal. Who and what will ease his mind?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)





	When I am dead, my dearest [A Draco Malfoy Love Story]

**_Wiltshire, 1991_ **

Night after night, Draco stirred. He habitually awakened in puddles of his own sweat, unable to peel himself off of his soaked sheets. In the years following Ludovica Salvatori’s tragic passing, nightmares plagued his mind; they were often the kind of nightmare that kept somebody paralysed until the break of dawn.

As the months flew by, Narcissa Malfoy grew worried about her son. The light had disappeared from behind his eyes again; she had seen this destructive cycle before with Draco’s father. Although Draco had changed, she was still able to discern whether he had endured a particularly prolonged night of dark hallucinations. The air in the manor was thick like molasses, drawing them both to the parlour with the sunrise.

“Do you think you can help him?” Narcissa asked the stranger, “just last week he made all of my pots and pans...float. No word of a lie, he put a dent in my favourite copper pot.”

“I certainly do-,” the old man said. His voice was fruity and smooth like well-aged bourbon; it carried throughout the rooms of the Malfoy Manor.

Draco meandered hesitantly in the direction from whence the voice, that he could not put a face to, came. Without making a sound, he eavesdropped on his mother’s exchange with the strange voice. He positioned himself behind the closed parlour door.

He continued, “As for the floating pots, I’m very pleased that he is showing such promising magical ability at so young of an age. However curious and out of his control, making household objects float is extremely natural for a budding Wizard. Remus used to make the dinner plates float in The Great Hall whenever somebody wound him up.”

Narcissa’s nose crumpled at the mention of Remus, she snubbed the comment and continued questioning the stranger, “how about his nightmares? They’ve been getting worse every night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about those!” the timeworn man responded, “the sooner we get him to Hogwarts, the more distractions he will have to take his mind off of his friend’s passing. Draco’s emotions are simply manifesting themselves in the form of magic.” He paused for a moment and after taking a sizeable sip of tea, he continued. “Anyways, as I was saying, you just need to give him time...and perhaps a dash of Alihotsy in his morning tea would do him some good – it’ll help with his melancholy.”

Lucius glanced at the parlour door. “It appears we have an audience. Enter, Draco. Why don’t you come on in and meet our guest?” he snapped. He had heard Draco’s footsteps halt outside of the door and had gathered that he was snooping. He watched as his son pushed the door open, revealing the stranger on the couch with his mother.

Draco observed that the man had a long, white beard and piercing blue eyes. He puzzled at him for a moment and turned to his father. “I’m sorry for earwigging-” he began, “but we haven’t had a visitor here in so long.” And they hadn’t; other Wizards, and Muggles alike, typically avoided their bleak hideaway. Narcissa had always used the excuse that their Manor was just ‘too hard to find’ amid the several acres of woodland that it was purposefully nestled in. Perhaps it was the gloomy exterior that drove visitors away. Malfoy Manor was located off a narrow country lane; its driveway was effortlessly straight with manicured yew hedges that bordered it on both sides. Wrought-iron gates guarded the manor along with a peafowl of albino peacocks. On the odd occasion that a passer-by happened to ignore its unwelcoming demeanour, a comment would always be made on how the peacocks, who were extremely hostile, should be euthanised. Narcissa always found these comments amusing, as she had fallen in love with the ‘look of the peacocks’, possessing her to persuade her husband to acquire several of them, for her, as a wedding gift. The gift was doubly impressive when she learned of the peafowl’s aggressive temperament; they shared that with Lucius. The Manor was abnormally large for a family of three, each of the Malfoy’s must have had their own wing. Isolated amongst gilded furnishings and expensive carpets.

“Right! Our guest!” exclaimed Narcissa, “this is Professor Dumbledore. He’s the headmaster at Hogwarts. You remember I told you about Hogwarts?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dumbledore said calmly, pulling a pair of half-moon spectacles from his pocket. He placed them on his wrinkled face and smiled. “You must be Draco?”, he inquired, extending a hand.

Draco nodded and reluctantly accepted the handshake. “Yes.”

Dumbledore had worn his favourite velvet suit, in the hopes that he would finally meet the young Malfoy boy. The fabric was midnight blue, speckled with silver star embroidery. Draco hated the look of him; he was eccentric and not to his taste. However, he noted that Dumbledore had kind eyes, he was a stranger to an unintimidating man.

“Your parents and I were just discussing your arrival at Hogwarts. I wonder, would you care to join me in a quick turn about the grounds? It’s very pleasant outside today.”

Draco glanced over at his mother. She bobbed his head enthusiastically in return, which ultimately persuaded him to agree to the proposed walk with the professor.

The pair quietly made their way through the manor’s dark passageways. They clambered down a steep staircase and through a rather grand looking foyer and stepped out of the main entrance. Once they were both outside, they began to saunter in the direction of the fountain. The manor overlooked a particularly miserable freshwater stream, which ran straight through the centre of Wiltshire. Home to several magical creatures, Lucius had warned Draco to distance himself from the stream, in the hopes to keep his son from becoming too interested in Magizoology. That wouldn’t benefit him at all in his later life. Draco drank in the fresh summer air, sighing as a soft breeze ran its way through his silvery-blonde hair.

“How are you feeling?” Dumbledore asked, breaking the silence between them.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. It had been a year since Ludovica’s death, or had it been longer? Time hadn’t felt the same to him since. “I thought I was fine – for a while. I feel grey again, the same grey as before”. His voice cracked a little.

The professor noted the blue undertones that his voice held. He stroked his beard, as though Draco had said something which perplexed him. “I see. Do you think you made the pots float because of your...greyness?”

“I guess,” Draco shrugged once more. He had stopped walking as they had reached the beginning of the stream. He looked up at the professor, “ _they_ killed her for being a Mudblood. My father’s friends cackled at her whilst she was dying. It’s my fault-I-I should have never brought her here.”

Dumbledore knew exactly what had happened. Lucius Malfoy had abandoned the Death Eaters after Voldemort’s defeat in the First Wizarding War; he had escaped imprisonment by claiming to be under the Imperius Curse. After his blatant desertion, the remaining Death Eaters must have had a hunger for revenge. By killing the Salvatori girl, they punished Lucius. They reasoned that forcing Lucius to witness his only son weep ceaselessly over his friend’s lifeless body, with the knowledge that her blood was on his hands, would punish Lucius for his cowardice in the worst way imaginable. “Her death is not your fault. The Wizarding World is suffering; for political reasons-”

“My father explained all that to me. He said that they executed her because she wasn’t...pure. They wanted to send a message. It was an accident that I ever met Ludovica in the first place – how was I to know that she was one of them?”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Draco” Dumbledore said, “anyways, I feel as though you are far too young to be learning about Wizard politics.”

“I had to learn about it eventually. After all, I am a Malfoy.” Draco reminded him, turning back to face the fountain. “So. My parents really want to send me away to live at your school, huh?”

“I wouldn’t use that term, No. You will have to travel to Hogwarts and stay with us during term-time, but you’ll be back home after each term,” Dumbledore said in a comforting manner. He patted Draco on the shoulder and smiled. “The floating pots confirmed that you have magical capabilities. You’re a Wizard, like your parents. All you need now is a place - like Hogwarts - to help you understand and control your magic.”

A guffaw escaped Draco’s lips as he shrugged off the professor’s hand, “that does sound better that when they explained it to me.”

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a brownish paper bag and a yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald to Mr. D. Malfoy. He handed them both to him. The paper bag contained an assortment of multi-coloured Fizzing Whizzbees; troublesome sherbet balls that loved to levitate.

“Thanks” mumbled the Malfoy boy. He forced a small smile onto his lips and popped a Whizzbee into his mouth.

“You’re very welcome, Draco. A little owl divulged to me that Fizzing Whizzbees were your favourite confectionary. Whilst I’m here, we might as well read your letter together. I already know what it is, of course.”

Draco opened the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF_

_WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.,_

_Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,_

_International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We are delighted to inform you of your place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Your first day of term will be the 1 st of September. _

_We await your owl by no later than the 31 st of July._

Draco bit down on his Whizzbee. He gnawed on it, feeling it crunch like glass between his teeth. Sherbet exploded in his mouth like fireworks. “Merlin’s beard. It’s my Hogwarts letter,” he gasped.

“So it is,” Dumbledore hooted, turning back towards the manor.

Draco gawked at him. This was the first time he had been excited about anything since Ludovica died. Perhaps Hogwarts would be the change he needed to help him heal. But what about his nightmares?

“I have nightmares, y’know?” he said, furrowing his brows. “If I have to share a dormitory, I might freak out the other students.”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, I know,” Dumbledore replied. He placed his hands in his suit pockets. “We’ll see what we can come up with. Leave it with me.”

Draco nodded with appreciation and chewed on another of his Whizzbees. They walked back to the manor in silence, both satisfied that they understood each other now.


End file.
